freedom of the will -- sometimes
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Writing Workshop assignmentTRANSCRIPT
Tom Minor
Freedom of the will—sometimes: Watson’s generous reply to Frankfurt’s hierarchical ordering of the soul
There is a ‘traditional-familiar’ view of the concept of freedom such that a person is
free only to the extent that he is able to do or get what he wants. Depending on where
you stand on the problem of determinism or ‘the strong scientific claim’1as it is more
recently known, this ‘familiar view’ of freedom can be seen as adequate whether our
decisions are determined or not. In this case, it is necessary to explain how it would
be possible for freedom to exist in the sense required for the attribution of moral
responsibility—in a world where actions were determined causally—such is the job of
compatibilists. On the other hand, incompatibilists regard the familiar view of
freedom as insufficient because freedom is an illusion, whether we believe in the
strong scientific claim or not. In the case of the ‘libertarians,’—we are right to
believe in the illusion of freedom, which implies a belief about our freedom to choose
certain courses of action over others and which is critical for understanding moral
responsibility. Libertarians think that if the strong scientific claim is true, it would be
incompatible with our freedom to choose, resulting in a conflict with our notion of
morality: the psychology of freedom requires real choosing and there would be no
such thing if determinism were to be true. Anti-libertarians agree that freedom is an
illusion but say that there is no real choosing because they believe that the strong
scientific claim is true. Incompatibilists (libertarians and anti-libertarians alike) have
the task of explaining what this ‘illusion of freedom is.’2
1 Determinism says that states of the world, including our actions, are strict causal products of earlier states. Epicureans discussed a version of this thesis in antiquity but the brain sciences lead us to believe that there are other explanations for our thoughts than a deterministic universe so the question evolves into a question about the relations between freedom and a ‘strong version’ of the psychophysical sciences which represent our experience as a function of brain-states explained as products of earlier brain states eventuating in determinism in the free will question being replaced with ‘the strong scientific claim’ that conflicts with freedom. (Williams, B. ‘Ethics.’ In Grayling, A. C (ed.) Philosophy 1. Oxford: Oxford Uni press, 4th edition, 2001, pp 576-580)2 Williams, B. ‘Ethics.’ In Grayling, A. C (ed.) Philosophy 1. Oxford: Oxford Uni press, 4th edition, 2001
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Gary Watson, in his essay on ‘Free Agency’3 sides with the compatibilists in
conceiving freedom, in degrees, as the extent to which an agent is able to do- or get-
what he wants. This sympathetic exegesis of Watson’s text will focus on his arguably
‘platonic’ division of the human soul into wanting and valuing and will involve an
exposition of his terminology and theory of free agency and finally Watson’s reply to
Harry Frankfurt’s hierarchical ordering of the soul, in his account of freedom of will
and personhood4 will be discussed. In espousing his deterministically neutral
position, Watson tries to avoid a common (and Watson believes, erroneous)
justification for compatibilism, whereby ‘free agency’ is revoked in the example of
individuals who are deemed not to have any control over their actions even when their
behaviour can be said to be intentional.
Theoretically speaking, the psychopathology of drug dependence, compulsive
disorders and clinically recognizable anxiety (as in phobias), provide instances
whereby behavior can be said to be intentional, yet outside of the agents’ locus of
control and thus determined, supporting the strong scientific claim.5 However, these
examples refer merely to a freedom of action and not to freedom in Watson’s sense of
being able to get what you want. Intentionality being independent of agents’ control,
does not in itself prove determinism or preclude the idea of being free do something.
Hence, the argument against compatibilism, that there are cases where agents’ actions
are not free, even though they may be intentional, represents an erroneous fusion of
the notions of free- and intentional- action. This line of defense, however, does not
show that freedom and responsibility are incompatible with determinism and this
fuels the skepticism and rejection of compatibilism. The critic only has to inquire as
to how one would justify attributing moral responsibility to non-pathological people if
determinism were to be true and he will find a lacuna in this version of compatibilist
defense: if determinism is true, it surely must be true for all and not just these
compulsive actors. If compatibilists want to believe in the possibility of freedom in a
determined world, they can not use the example of ‘compulsive choosers’ to make
their point since even their actions could be considered free under this notion.
3 Watson, G. (1975). “Free Agency.” Journal of Philosophy, 72: 8, 205-220.4 Frankfurt, H. (1971). “Freedom of the Will and the Concept of the Person”, Journal of Philosophy, 68: 1, 5-20; reprinted in Kane (ed.). Free Will (Oxford: Blackwell, 3rd edition, 2004)5 Watson, G. (1975). “Free Agency.” Journal of Philosophy, 72: 8 (pp 206)
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Compulsive choosers’ actions may be unfree, but even if they were free actions they
would still say nothing about the truth or falsity of determinism. In other words, one
can be free to act even if determinism is true and one can be unfree to act even if
determinism is false.
This idea of an ‘unfree action’ under the microscope of the familiar view, requires a
propaedeutic distinction to be made between wanting and valuing. Here, the idea is
that the agent is unable to get what he wants or values most because of his own
‘motivational system’; his own will obstructs him from achieving his action and thus
the action is unfree. The notion of free action springs from this idea that an agent may
not be finally moved to get what he most wants. So goes the platonic dictum—that it
is one thing to attach value to something and another thing to desire it; to think
something good is to desire or promote it, thus reason produces action and values
provide reasons for action. How much you want something is therefore not
determined by how motivated you are to value it. Watsonian freedom, as the ability
to get what one wants, is not supported by this platonic distinction between valuing
and desiring, which implies independent sources of motivation.6 Plato, does however,
provide an answer to the question of how ‘what one most wants can differ from that
which is the object of the strongest desire’: what one most wants can be either the
object of strongest desire or what one values most. Again, the problem of free action
is posed because what one desires may not be what one values the most, nor what one
is finally moved to satisfy. Watson, himself, admits the anti-humean logic of his
position, in regarding the falsity of the claim that if a person desires to do X, he
necessarily has or regards himself as having a reason to do X.7
To continue this line of thought (of Watson’s), evaluation and desire may diverge
when: what one desires is not valued, considered worthwhile, or seen as good in the
mind of the agent; and when the object of desire is valuable, but not most valuable
(even though one’s desire for it may be stronger than the desire for what is most
valued).8 This divergence between evaluation and desire, is not so much to do with
the content of the desire so much as the source of the desire and its role in a ‘total
6 Watson, G. (1975). “Free Agency.” Journal of Philosophy, 72: 8 (pp 209)7 ibid8 ibid pp. 210
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system’ of desires, i.e., why the agent wants what he wants.9 Content speaks not of
source, since single desires may have multiple sources. Wanting to eat does not
definitely mean I am hungry or that my hunger is the definitive source of my desire to
eat; I may want to gain weight, nourish myself in preparation for an athletics
competition, or simply enjoy eating. To demonstrate an even rarer form of
divergence; when one places no value whatsoever on what one desires, Watson uses
the example of a mother having the sudden urge to drown her baby or a squash player,
in defeat, wanting to smash his opponent in the face. In each case, no value is placed
on the injury, but the desire is there nonetheless. What stops these agents from
satisfying their desire surely must be reason based on evaluation.
According to these divergences, Watson astutely, and in the tradition of the ancients,
identifies appetites and passions, which include desires that are independent of the
evaluational system (hence their archaic position in the irrational part of the soul), and
thereby allowing for the possibility of conflict between valuing and desiring.10 These
value-independent sources of motivation reinforce the idea of being motivated to do
something deemed unworthy of being done as in the case of the mother and the
squash player, and the notion that a person can be thwarted by his own will. Watson
does not stop there, he even accounts for the complexifying possibility that desires
can influence the contents of agents’ evaluations (temporary as this influence may
be), so that an agent could conceivably have a desire and then think or say to himself
that it is worthwhile or good. These sorts of delusions are contrasted with the
possibility that an activity may be valued and affirmed by an agent even when there is
no appetite for that activity. So I may value the act of having sexual intercourse with
my partner, and affirm this value by taking part in the act even when I have no
appetite for it. The former possibility refers to the operation of what Watson terms
the ‘motivational system’ – the set of considerations moving an agent to action i.e.,
his motivation. Whereas the latter possibility refers to a Watsonian ‘valuational
system’ – as the set of considerations and factual beliefs that produce judgments and
assign values to alternate states of affairs: the ‘all-things-considered’ approach to
evaluation.
9 ibid pp. 21110 ibid pp. 212
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Here we begin to see the strength of Watson’s thesis: free agency assumes that the
valuational system is operational in ranking optional desires in terms of worth. Now,
we may tackle the contentious idea of the ‘unfree action,’ which is translated into the
possibility that the motivational and valuational system do not always coincide. The
divergence between these two ‘systems of the soul’ is thus harmonized when agents’
all-things-considered evaluations determine his actions. To value, however, is as
good as to want, under Watson’s conception and therefore the systems must overlap,
but valuation holds rank over motivation and we may be thankful for this privileged
rationality. Free agency is convincingly portrayed as the capacity to translate values
into action; where action flows from the evaluational system. One could conceive of
one’s evaluational system as the viewpoint from which one evaluates one’s world.
Dissociation from one’s viewpoint, as in the pathological cases of dementia praecox,
psychoses and neuroses of the ego, results, a posteriori, in the sacrifice of any
viewpoint whatsoever and precludes therewith one’s identity as a free agent.
In his last analysis, Watson amicably draws some conclusions on his colleague, Harry
Frankfurt’s ‘platonic-structural’ view of the will, arguing that structural topographies
are irrelevant for the notions of free agency and personhood. A resounding criticism
of Frankfurt’s thesis is that his hierarchical ordering of desires does not tell us why or
how one want can rise above the others with special privileges, without the potential
for an obsessive refusal to identify with any one desire in any one order that could
lead to an infinite chain of higher and higher order desires being formed. Watson
contends that agents formulate values concerning alternative choices with no need to
inquire about second- or higher-order desires: agents simply ask themselves, which
course of action is most worthy (all-things-considered). In this sense, evaluations
occur a priori and Frankfurt’s first-order desires spring from practical judgments,
which generate second-order volitions. This apparent symbiosis between Watsonian
terminology and Frankfurtian pleonastics disguises a fundamental gulf between the
two theories.
It is not difficult to see the difference between hierarchical ordering and valuational-
motivational mechanisms and one wonders why Watson fails to make more of his
discovery that appetites and passions operate motivationally and rationality operates
valuationally, or that it is the convergence or divergence of these operations that
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determine whether one’s action can be called free of unfree. This is especially
frustrating when it stands in such stark contrast to Frankfurt’s unnecessary structural
divisions of desire, which venture to tell us something about free will but, as Watson
himself remarks, fails to achieve its goal. Perhaps academic camaraderie prevents
Watson from dealing the damaging blows that his theory entitles him to, indeed, it
may be that there is more to Frankfurt’s thesis than it is given credit for here.
Essentially, a theory that draws its distinctions from reliable sources, dating back to
antiquity and which are still popular today, as Watson does, appears to be a more
convincing technique in a discourse of any sort of freedom, than the Frankfurtian
concoction of arbitrary hierarchies. Hierarchies that incidentally have no internal or
conceptual validity and which rely on further, even less believable fabrications of
‘ideal’ candidates for the application and attempted validation of Frankfurt’s theory of
personhood and freedom of the will.11
One can be thankful, that Watson, conceives, as he does, of the predominance of his
valuational system, since, it not only accounts for how one’s actions can be seen as
unfree, but how this capacity to obstruct oneself from satisfying all desires, is actually
a good thing. Think of the mother who desired to drown her baby, but because she
placed no real value on that desire, was able to thwart herself in satisfying it. What
heinous crimes would take place, if we had no Watsonian valuational system? There
is an interesting analogy here to the psychoanalytic conception of the Superego. As
the seat of the conscience, the Superego surely lends support to Watson’s view that
faculties of reason and rationality operate on and above the faculties of appetite and
passion, which psychoanalytically would be considered to be the id; the locus of
impulse, desire and instinct. One only need entertain the thought of uncontained
passion and desire in the world, and one realizes the need for a system based on
valuing the worth of our actions.
11 Frankfurt distinguishes between the wanton, willing and unwilling addicts, none of whom have freedom of will. The wanton addict cares not about his addiction and thus makes no second-order volitions to make any of his first-order desires effective, he is not concerned with the desirability of his desires, he is not a person. The willing addict overdetermines his desire to take drugs and can be said to be morally responsible even though he is not free and the unwilling addict makes second-order volitions against his desire for the drug but this makes no difference, since he inevitably succumbs to his addiction, just like the wanton and willing addicts.
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In the last analysis, we can confidently say that Watson, although unintentionally,
defends compatibilism against one of its most pernicious attacks, (mentioned earlier)
that if determinism is true then all our actions and choices, not just those of
compulsive choosers, but everyone’s agency is determined. Watson would reply that
it is false to assume equity between compulsive choosers’ and free agents’ actions and
choices if determinism is true. The behaviour of compulsive choosers, their desires
and their emotions, according to Watson, are radically autonomous and not dependent
on the evaluational system. Furthermore desires expressed regardless of any
evaluational judgment are what lead us to the thought of actions as unfree which is
when agents’ motivation and valuation diverge.
So it would seem that Watson’s theory comes closer to the principle aim of moral
philosophy: of truthfully understanding what our ethical values are and how they are
related to our psychology, in the light of which we make a valuation of those values.
It is difficult to find fault in Watson’s account. The reader is, at least, tempted to
grant his distinction between wanting and valuing in order to understand the claim
that unfree actions do not achieve what the agents really or mostly want. This, of
course, endorses Watson’s definition of free action and agency in terms of being able
to get what one wants, but then that would be his prerogative as the author of his own
theory. Watson, gives a generous reading of Frankfurt’s account, even though he
seems equipped to deal some devastating blows to Frankfurt’s thesis which eludes the
debate about free will and determinism, it so eagerly wants to join. It is hoped that
this analysis has done some justice to Watson’s attempt to deal with a highly complex
area of study, though it seems fair to let Watson have the last word:
“Human beings are only more or less free agents, typically less. They are free
agents only in some respects. With regards to appetites and passions, it is plain
that in some situations the motivational systems of human beings exhibit
independence from their values which is inconsistent with free agency; that is to
say, people are sometimes moved by their appetites and passions in conflict with
their practical judgments.”12
12 ibid. pp 220
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